Short Whomp Up Poems

Route 66ish No 17

John, a young guy from Miami
Had legs just a little bit gammy,
He would quite often fall
When he shopped in the mall
And land with a 'whomp' on his fanny!...

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Whomp…another clump of ice cycles, lands on the patio.

It’s good to see brother sun; he is tired of the cold.

His fiery temper quickly melts away, old Jack Frosts icy rage.


 ...

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Ring around the rosie
Ribbit Dribbit Drosie
They secret the mucus.
Hookus, Lookus, Doofus.

Three frogs at play
In my field today
Straight from the swamp
Eating flies with a whomp!

Ring around the rosie
Ribbit Dribbit Drosie
Good pets they might not be
Frog legs for my tea?...

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From an eight story high rise building
I leapt to my death, but land on top of a moving bus with a thump.
People scream. I laugh, because I am still alive.
My purple cape flies out behind me.
I see a low bridge, so I fall down with a whomp.
More screaming.
I hang on tightly.
No longer wanting to die....

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Flushes in steps
Bloomed to a violet
Present to live in past
Yet future’s tune
Song of broken chain

Mishaps brought over
Called misfit stars
Swirled and mend
To be on the edge

Stumped in waves
Revealed in prays
Nevertheless a vine
Crawled in frames
Lit by whomp

Become - space less-
Can it be re-happening
-on the same frame-...

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YattaYattaYatta 

I can do the this and that 
i can wear my army hat 
i can lift 600 lbs 
just look at this arm you wimp 
i can yatta yatta yatta 
i can whomp yew little man 
yes you can you great big man 
but yatta yatta yatta too 
i can do the this and that 
i can wear my army hat 
i cannot lift 600 lbs 
my arm is not my god today 
but yatta yatta yatta 
i can step away 
and live...

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It is coming. 
Terror courses through me.
I try to scream for help, but nothing comes out.

Pure terror mode 
Not able to do anything at all.
No longer in control of my mouth.

I can sense it coming closer.
I try to scream a second time.
Then WHOMP!

An unknown object lands on my chest.
I wake up
My heart beating faster.

I know it is here now.
I shut my eyes
Waiting for the pain....

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My fingernails are hanging on by a thread.
I can feel myself slipping
I know I will drop to my death
I scream all the way down.
WHOMP!
I hit my chest hard.
My eyes flutter open.
Bad dream? My muse asks.
She is smirking.
I hate her.
She does this to me at 3 a.m. every morning
When she wants me to get up and write.
I cover my head and play snore
Listening to her giggle.
She knows she has me....

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Machete pecks
cycle through a staccato lied.
The music is Jurassic,
a tune rattled in the throat
of a feathered lizard –
the genetic code
of jackhammers.
Apart from the tock-tock
of beak on wood,
their calls are insane.
One could be a jack-ass braying,
one a monkey’s angry chatter.
In some we can hear a pterodactyl
calling from a far distant past.
Woodpeckers are wonderful,
Awesome, 
the way a velociraptor
would be awesome 
if it could whomp its way
through forests....

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